


Cyclops

by DrJackstraw



Series: Ariadne's Thread: A Reevesverse AU [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, The Batman (Movie 2021)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, I'm blaming WB for my duct tape kink, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Sex Toys, There's a dead body hanging around; HAR HAR, There's a single sex toy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28579536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackstraw/pseuds/DrJackstraw
Summary: Following the events of 'Panoptes', while investigating a lead from an anonymous tipper, you discover a few new things about yourself.
Relationships: Edward Nygma/Reader, Edward Nygma/You
Series: Ariadne's Thread: A Reevesverse AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933852
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Cyclops

**Author's Note:**

> The investigation that drives the plot is into an addictive substance called 'drop'. 
> 
> For context, browse these pictures taken last October on set in Liverpool, UK: https://i.redd.it/ri3ivlndw2t51.jpg

You’re four blocks away from downtown Gotham and three hours away from midnight when you make your second call of the day. While listening to the dial tone, you exhale for the first time since you were unearthed from the subway.

_“I can’t talk right now, but you can. Ready. Set. Beep.”_

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


“Hey, Edward,” you sigh after his pre-recorded start signal. “Remember this morning when I said I didn’t need help with my phone?” As you pick up speed on Mayor Mitchell’s new pavement, the volume of your old running shoes assaulting the asphalt is loud enough for you to hear through your earbuds. Even now, it isn’t nearly as loud as your pumping pulse. “I lied.”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  
  


This morning, the sound of a new message made you stir in your sleep. 

**< ( Good morning. )**

( Morning. I didn’t wake up just now. )>

**< ( You’re lying.)**

( I am. )>

**< ( How’s that headache? )**

( It woke up before me. )>

**< ( I bought ibuprofen, too. )**

**< ( You should still drink all the water you can before I get there. )**

**< ( I’ll make us coffee. With all the cream you’ve ever dreamed. )**

**< ( If you’re good. )**

**< ( And drink water. )**

You rubbed your eyes and then your cheeks. They burned with a wide grin and a hot blush. Then, you rubbed your thighs together, smothering the sensation and stimulating it simultaneously.

( When will you be here? )>

What were you thinking? No, you weren’t thinking. You were dreaming. You were still stewing in the dream you had about him. You had to wake up.

**< ( Ten. You better be up by then. )**

  
  


( I’m up. )>

With less than ten minutes to brush, wash and change, you were up and running. You picked up your toothbrush and paste as you stumbled into the shower, then scrubbed your tongue under the stream and spat out the tainted taste of a hangover down the drain. Reeking of last night’s remote rendezvous when he arrived wasn’t an option, so you started scrubbing your skin, too. 

You could never talk to him about it and you certainly could never let him through your phone again. After all, your ghostly gentleman caller might seek you out once more. 

He’d already left three lewd messages in your inbox. Last night, that shower had done nothing for your sanity, so you listened to those raunchy recordings before tossing and turning until this morning. 

Edward. 

In your dreams, the mystery man had modeled himself after him. He used his mouth to speak the unspeakable and his body to do the unthinkable. 

_You cheated,_ he’d rumbled, echoing the first recording. _You ran off before I could collect my prize._

You were splayed on your back, legs spread like he’d asked. However, those weren’t your hands hovering over that hot and sopping spot. 

_I won_ , he’d heaved as if he were running. Or, rather, running out of breath. _And I’ll get what is rightfully mine._

Those nimble fingers you never failed to notice weren’t picking at the evidence or scavenging for clues. They were digging into the flushed flesh of your inner thigh.

_Don’t you dare hold back on me. I want to hear every breath and every sigh._

The thumbs turned towards your lips, which were coated in their layer of lubricant. He uncovered your nub and you’ve never felt more naked.

_Every mewl and every moan. And, when you come for me, I want to hear you scream my name._

“Edward”, you breathed. “Edward”, you sighed. “Edward”, you moaned.

_I’m coming!_

It’s the sound of steps that makes you drop the shower head from between your legs and get sprayed in the face. 

Edward.

“I’m coming,” you heard him hurry down the hallway. “Are you okay-HEY!”

“You’re here,” your voice was strained like you’d been screaming. Had you been screaming? In the real world, had you been screaming his name? “I thought I heard the door,” you laugh, a sound as lame as your lie. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. You weren’t answering the door or your phone, so I let myself in.”

You dared to look in his direction and that is when you saw he wasn’t looking into yours. You’d been talking to his back all along. The shower curtain wasn’t pulled and the bathroom door wasn’t closed, but you were sure you locked the front. Yeah, you were pretty sure that you did. 

“I know you have the right to bear arms,” he started answering before you started questioning him. “But you should still lock your door at night.”

“Fuck,” you finally pulled the curtain to cover yourself. “I was that drunk, huh?”

“Hey,” his words were warmer than the steam of the turned-off stream. “That’s why I’m here. After breakfast, I’m checking you into rehab.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, a loud and sincere sound. “Asshole.”

“I can’t hear you,” his voice was drowned out by the distance. “I'm flipping pancakes.”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


“Remember when I asked if you could block an unknown number? Remember when I called it a hypothetical question? I lied.”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


“Hypothetically,” Edward enunciated the word you weaseled in at the tail end of your hurried question. “You can,” he turned to you after turning off the tap, your slightly stained towel between his wet hands. “You can set up your phone so that all unknown callers go straight to voicemail. Though I’m pretty sure I already did that for yours. Let me check.” He reached across the table, but you retrieved it before he could lay a dried-up finger on it. “What is it?”

“Just,” you wave his concern away, phone flashing from side to side in front of your face. “Just tell me where to go. _Settings_ , right?”

“I thought that once you stopped screwing Serkel, I’d get back my phone privileges,” he teased, but it tasted like something sour. “He’s been calling you, hasn't he? Even after what he did to you?” His hand formed a tight fist where it lay on top of the linen. “Even after he humiliated you?”

You gathered his flexing fingers into yours, rubbing at his knobby knuckles. Officer Andrew Serkel always brought out the worst in him and left you to smother the flames he fanned. Of course Renee would mistake his wrath for envy. Of course. 

“Edward,” you searched his face, the dark frown behind his clear frames. “I did block him,” you smiled, but the red shame caused by that racy recording Drew demanded to know about had yet to drain from your face. “This isn't him calling me.”

And Edward's squeezing of your smaller hand with his larger one, the very same one that had been just as demanding in your dream, wasn’t helping with cooling off your heated cheeks.

“Let's not eliminate him as a suspect just yet.” With his eyebrows unknitted and his forehead smoothened, he collapsed in his chair, calling you closer. “Who do you think it is?”

“It’s an unknown number,” you came around the table corner. “So it could be anybody,” you settled between his spread-out legs while still standing up on your own. “A kid playing a prank, maybe? The man asking for my number in the club? I don't remember giving it to him. Yet again, I don't remember leaving the door open either.” 

"You're sure it's not Serkel?"

You freed your hands of his, but were still trapped between his thighs. "Seriously?" 

“Forgive me,” he said, his face now just as transparent as his glasses. There was a softness there that was only contradicted by the callousness of the fingertip caressing the back of your hands. He'd recaptured them and you again. “He came between us once and I don’t want that happening again,” he states, a truth only he upholds. Nothing was keeping Edward away from you. He only had his apparent allergic reaction to Drew to blame. "I won't let it happen again."

Still, you let yourself be seated across his lap, lazily settling on his bony knee. “How's about you teach me how to block numbers and you won't ever have to worry about anything coming between us again."

"It would be my pleasure." With your weight in his arms, Edward's expression lightened. "I’m not about to let some _drophead_ come between us either."

“Drophead?" You had to laugh. "Where did you think Montoya took me clubbing? My Alibi?”

“Hey, you're the one investigating Falcone’s drop distribution,” he squeezed your side. “They’re supposedly spreading the stuff outside of the inner city.”

Your spine arched against an agonizingly amatory feeling. It took you biting down on your tongue to stop the satisfied sound from reaching Edward's ear. “Falcone’s alleged drop distribution.” Had the two of you always been so close? Of course Renee would mistake your relationship for something else. Of course. “I’ve got no evidence to back-up my claims.”

“Yet,” he smiled like he knew something that you didn’t. The worst - and arguably best - part was that he probably did. “That promotion is close enough for me to taste it,” he said, his mouth close enough for you to taste the heavy cream in his morning coffee.

“Is it?” You swallowed the pancake syrup still stuck to your tongue.

Then, before your mouth could catch up to his, your mind caught up with you. It only took the pulsing sound of a phone vibrating.

Knocking your knee on the side of the table, you jumped off of his. “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” He held onto his hand even as you tried to twist it away from him. “Let me see that,” his other hand latched onto your leg.

“I’m fine,” you stood still even as a storm gathered inside of you and your thigh quacked at his touch. “I thought you threw away that receipt.”

“What receipt?” 

While pointing towards his phone, your eyes were unblinking. That ought to explain their wetness gathering there.

Missed calls (3)

ALLIE B

(( **BEEP** ))

Three blocks away.

“Remember when I said I’d be fine if you’d go spend the rest of your day with her? I lied.”

(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


The small Greek tavern you’d taken Edward “I’ll Just Order In” Nashton to during his first lunch outside of the Forensics Lab had quickly become his favorite. It used to be your favorite as well, but that was before you had to share it with Allison “Call Me Allie” Bechdel. 

Allie was a Computer Science student and part-time waitress. She’d waited on the two of you for an entire summer, three months of sizing you up as a romantic rival before deducing your platonic partnership. Come September, she slipped him her phone number, a scribble on top of the receipt.

He said he’d recycle it along with the rest of the waste he cleared off the table, but she’s been calling him all morning.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Edward enveloped his shoulders in emerald, the coat that covered him up to his midthigh and brought out the green in his eyes. “I can come back here for lunch after I drive Allison up to GSU.”

No, you weren’t going to let his girlfriend come between the two of you. No, you weren’t going to act betrayed like he did when you got yourself a boyfriend. No, you weren’t jealous. Yes, you were avoiding his eyes and all the light and shades in them.

“I have the right to bear arms, remember? I can take care of myself. I’ll see you tomorrow at the Station?” 

“Tomorrow,” he leaned over, gloved hand latching onto the back of your neck. 

You let yourself go limp in the palm of his hand and your lashes fall atop each other. When his lips didn’t meet your parted ones and instead caressed your cheek, you gasped because you knew you were a goner. And when he freed you and walked out the door, you stayed trapped in his touch for a moment too long.

You wouldn’t last until tomorrow.

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

Two blocks away.

“I lied, Edward.”

(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


If you’d only been honest with him, you wouldn’t be having vending machine coffee for dinner. If you’d only been honest with yourself, you wouldn’t be wondering the Gotham subway system alone. If you’d only been honest, you wouldn’t be following up on a lead on your day off.

Now here you were, in the same tracksuit you used to sweat in during your police academy days and the same shoes you used to run into the ground. 

Your phone sat strapped to your arm, under your jacket, and you haven’t touched since you called back the number you haven’t registered, but was listed in your phone as < **?** >. On the other end was your mystery man, the same one you allowed to assist you during last night’s self-help session. It was the same one you trusted to assist you during today’s impromptu investigation. You let him pursue you into going off path during your daily jog. 

Now here you were, boarding a train going anywhere instead of walking back home.

_“The subway schedule is almost as reliable as the law enforcement in this city,”_ you heard him sigh through the static, in your headphones and down your spine. _“Present company excluded, of course.”_

“I bet you say that to all the cops you tip off.”

_“Only you, detective.”_

“I’m not a detective,” you reminded him, running your hands over your knees as you try to settle your tapping feet. “Going on your little scavenger hunt doesn’t make me Poirot.”

_“Not yet you’re not,”_ he snickers as if he knows a secret about you that you have yet to discover. _“You have greater scavenger hunts ahead of you. Tonight, I'll get your prize while I belatedly collect mine.”_

“What is that supposed to mean?”

_“You’ll see.”_

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
One block away.

“I lied.”

(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


You followed his trail through the train, through densely populated and gradually deserted cars. 

_“The last ones shall be first.”_

“How will I recognize you?”

_“You needn’t be a detective to figure that one out,”_ his distorted voice dipped. 

“You’ll be the first person to board the last car. The last ones shall be first.”

_“Good girl,”_ he congratulated you, the cadence of his voice causing the modulator to make a murmur of it. 

“Am I?” It caused you to moan your reply. “I needn’t be a detective to figure that one out.”

“I’m here.” The last car was empty, so your victory lap had no spectators. The train had yet to make its first stop and he had yet to board the last car. Flickering neons fought to stay alive above you as you slipped between the sliding doors. “Did you hear me? I’m here.”

_“Loud and clear, detective,”_ you heard him through the airy static of the synthesizer on the other end of the line. _“Loud and clear.”_ And the sound of heavy steps from behind.

It all happened in a blink of the dying lights. Your foam heel sunk back on the tip of a leather shoe. Combat boots? No good. Since he failed to fold over in pain, hitting him in the chest instead of the mouth would have to do. Your elbow turned towards him before you did. Once you were confronted with his face, he had already surrendered. A back gloved hand clutched his check as the other was raised in surrender. It was as good as any white flag.

_“Not a fan of surprises, I take it.”_

“You?”

_“You were right,”_ the same voice that’s been guiding you was gasping in your ear in time with the passenger’s panting chest. _“You’re no detective.”_ He raised his other hand along with his head. _“Who else could it be?”_

In light or shadow, he had no face. The lights caught on a pair of prescription glasses while the shadows clung to the creases of the mask he covered himself with. A hood hid away the rest of his head as he tilted it and talked distortedly and directly into your earphones: _“It was a joke. It wasn’t a very good one, I have to admit. Forgive me.”_

“Stick to the riddles,” you replied, relaxing your fists enough to raise your hands to your ears.

_“Keep those on, please,”_ he heaved, hurriedly grabbing your hands with his loved ones. _“I’d like my voice, as well as my face, to remain hidden.”_ His leathery thumbs laved the insides of your bare wrists as the rest of your fingers cuffed each of them in turn. _“I’m an anonymous tipper, after all.”_

“Are you?” You asked, but you let him captivate you before he even answered you. You let him capture you and, before you could see what he was backing you against, you let him corner you. “You know everything about me, but I know nothing about you.”

_“You prefer it that way,”_ he smiled. Through the static in your earphones and the mask over his mouth, you swore that he smiled. _“I know you do.”_ His hands guided yours as his voice had once done. _“I am going to need you to hold on tight.”_ As he raised your hands above and behind you, he closed his own over them, over the handlebar. _“Can you do that for me?”_

“S-sure,” you whimpered, a warning of just how far you had gone and how much further you were willing to go. 

_“Good girl,”_ he whispered, a summer wind blowing through the speakers. _“I’m going to check you for weapons, if that is okay with you.”_ When you nodded all too suddenly, you heard him snort. An actual audible smile. _“I’ll be going through your backpack now.”_

“They’re all in there,” you quickly added, quivering in arid anticipation. “Water bottle, gaffer tape, odorless lube.” You struggled, but eventually stammered out the last item you collected on your scavenger hunt. “And the **_toy_** _._ ”

  
All of those he extracted from your pack as it still hung down your back while enveloping his arms around your. An embrace. 

_“Don’t tell me you’ve never played with this type of_ **_toy_ ** _before,”_ he shook his head, the stammering lights shining in his spectacles. _“I’ll have to teach you then,”_ he presented the pretty pink thing to you, plucking it from its box. _“Size matters not. As for this,”_ he introduced you to another, less enticing item. _“I’d like to have this. May I?”_

You nodded, head moving up and down. 

He moved him from side to side. _“You have to say it.”_ While his masked mouth moved closer, the volume of his voice in your ears stayed the same. _“Say it.”_

“You can h-have it.”

He brought it before your eyes and let you behold the button his thumb was hovering over. _“It’s the remote control.”_ His finger flicked the switch and something like static shock ran through you, from between your legs where his other hand was hovering with the toy. Yes, it was a vibrator and it was throbbing between your thighs. _“I’d like to be in control. May I?”_

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

One intercom call away.

“Edward, it’s me. I lied”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

_“What was that?”_

Your answer was muffled behind the muzzle of tape he made you wear. Though you had more than your mouth to respond to his questions with, it wasn’t loud enough for him. Your body, even as he played it with one thumb on the shiny remote and the other on your fleshy switch, wasn’t singing the way he wanted it to.

_“What was that?”_ He repeated his question like a refrain, but ruined his own rhythm by running the slippery gloved surface of his fingers up your stomach. When his hand halted, it wasn’t because your breasts were a barrier. They were the destination. _“I can’t hear you.”_ He slapped one and then the other, the wet sound almost as wanton as your guttural answer.

Another slap, another muffled moan.

_“You want to come?”_ His slick fingers slid back down to your clitoris. _“You want me to let you come?”_ The circles he ran around it were tighter and tighter, and so were the walls of your womb around that trembling little toy. 

Through the veil of tears over your vision and the sheet of shadows covering the train car, you couldn’t see his eyes. For all you knew, there was nothing looking back at you behind those lenses, nothing hidden behind that mask. For all you knew, he was a nightmare or a dream come true. Holding on tight like he asked, you strained against the strips of tape keeping your hands stuck to the handlebars. 

Through the thumping of your own eardrums, you heard another muffled moan. It wasn’t your own, but it was more human than synthesizer. When he tore the tape off of your mouth and demanded with despair that you answer him, you thought that he might be real after all. 

“Please,” you gasped, grinding your hurried hips against his fast fingers and lining your loose lips with his masked mouth. 

_“There it is,”_ he sounded short of breath, like air blowing through your earbuds. 

“Let me come,” you smothered yourself against the surface of his second skin. “Please let me come,” you latched your lips against it. “Please.”

_“There she is,”_ he suffocated your hot mouth with his cold mask. _“My prize.”_

“Please,” Your blood pulsed in time with the toy penetrating you. 

_“Come,”_ he commanded and your cunt clenched. The shape of his mouth almost kissable as it moved behind the mask and against you. _“Come for me,”_ he pressed every button at his disposal and rolled every dial within reach. 

There was a name on the tip of your tongue, a name you swallowed all to soon with a spasming orgasm. 

_“All for me.”_

(( **BEEP** ))

Three knocks, two twists of the doorknob knob and a “hello” later, you are at the threshold.

“Officer, what’s wrong?” Allie answered, alarmed. “Why are you crying?”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

Three orgasms, two helping hands and one drink of water later, you were resting in your anonymous tiper’s lap. The strange setting of the dark and abandoned car nullified against the firm and familiar grip he had on your now trousered thigh. 

“The drop dealer,” you rubbed at your freed wrists, red and raw from the gaffer tape. “Who is he?”

_“Water,”_ he brought the bottle back to your lips. 

“I don’t want water,” your voice cracked like a dry desert floor. “Does he work for Carmine Falcone?”

_“Drink,”_ he spoke to you through the speakers of your earbuds. _“Yes, he used to work for the Falcones.”_

  
  


((BEEP))

The only obstacle between the two of you was Allie. 

“Edward’s in his office,” she gets out of your way. “He’s been coding all night. He wouldn’t even come out for dinner. He won’t listen to me,” she opens the door wider. She’s wearing a Riddle of the Minotaur t-shirt that is two sizes too big. “But I’m not you. Could you talk some sense into him?”

(( **BEEP** ))

_“You see, detective,”_ he tightened his grip on your thigh. _“He used to work for Mayor Mitchell himself_.”

"The mayor?"

_“Why else would Commissioner Savage allow for evidence to get eviscerated overnight?”_ he let you leap off of his lap and watched you walk away on lame legs. _“Think, detective. The Drop goes all the way to the top.”_

“Are you accusing me of being part of a...a cover up?”

_“Not you,”_ he spoke slowly as if not to spook you. It was too late. When he rose, the row was emptied. The car was empty. The whole damned train might as well have been empty. You were alone. With him. _“However, I can’t say the same for your colleagues.”_

“What?” You backed away from him and towards the doors. A stop was coming up, so they were about to come apart. “What are you talking about? No more riddles! Answer me!”

_“Mitch Donovan.”_

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


“I,” you swallowed. It was salty. “I have to go.”

You were already down the hall when she called. “Officer?”

  
  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

“The deputy mayor? What does he have to do with this?”

He laughed, labored breath blowing into your ears. “It's high time you stopped hiding behind lies and face the truth, detective,” said the masked man in a synthetic voice 

You still had the buds in, so you wrestled with the wires. “What do I have to do with any of this?”

When he pocketed one of his hands and produced a knife, you were blinded by the light reflected off of the blade. And his lenses. 

He brought the blade down on a string. You didn’t see it when you slipped past it and you couldn’t see it when the knife went through it. But you did hear it snap with your now unclogged ears. A discordant note. 

As the train slowed down to a stop, the doors slid away from each other and and you slipped away from him. And, from the ceiling of the car, a weight dropped. Swinging from one side to the other, up and down the aisle, a body hung in a dead man's noose.

“The _drop_ goes all the way to the _top._ ”

  
  


(( **BEEP** ))

  
  


In a rush and a barely buttoned shirt, he caught you in the staircase. “What’s wrong?”

His hands on your shoulders were disarming. “Edward,” you finally surrendered. And sobbed. “I lied.”

  
  
  



End file.
